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Someone Aug 19
As a friend said there's no cure for love , no matter how hard I try , I can't keep my eyes dry , all you need is love but love for me is you  so ,there's no cure for love
'Way from Kraken gurgle, Harpic Sarlacc, full-
throated Flush Monster, back to bed I'd hurry
during the weeing hours o' childhood mornindigo.
When Percy points at the porcelain, the porcy
lain points back at Percy.

Used & abused water
more than the icon, Sea, but at that age,
I don't suppose I was thinking
of fatbergs & rat kings,

****** miles of shiteating grim
fundus, universal bucket leaking in each
bubble's corner.
No carminatives, no angst, no Armitage H.
Shanks: incorporeal the wretch

Insta-famous. 'Dontcha believe it!'
answers the ****, the ****
of Om. Ad profundum,
do sewers need hellcraft?
Don't forget to...Baptismal epitaph

of **** is abysmal, craptismal
welcome to our round world
via u-bends sinister. Whole scatolocus
be curved crud, our home clod
w/ its bogs of cod.

But thru the eye of a needle our narrow
focus takes us
down the Euroshopper **** canal flannel channel
to where kermit quack deterges
(from a high grate) Kermit the Crocodile's scales,

wargreen as a black Atlantic gator.
I am the eggbound, goo goo
g'jobbie! But it's time to putaway such childish things:
in reality, the Ninja Turtles' HQ
is covered in poo.

& verrucas ebola ebolasalt logorrhea logonorrhea
semolinapilchard eczemacetera. Stereotypical-
ly British/puerile/Licean to
stir urea o' tepid pools,
torpid stools, fool-

hardy too, lest guileless sewage
triumfartly splurts
from madid, olid mouse 'oles.
Horizontal geysewers l/ foudroyant
hydrants of tempted fate,

rumble thy smellyful! Revacuate, adobe draftexcluders
miasmatic! Revoid, renal vino! & muckup halcyon
skirtingboards! A soapy bath concludes the

coprocobraing in Pythagorrhea of ricoshite.
Feeshus lept, Jesus wept! Misfortune we miss
is the best luck, so thank Chod such an agitplop
contraflow of floaters against th'Effluent is
not forthplumbing. Eccrisis

is natural, nitrous, noxious
& necessary, our meconium island babies.
But nothing pooing is sweetsmelling nothing doing,
blows unblocked felicity in my
direction (an angel's cloaca of invisibility).
Tommy Randell Jun 29
There's a Gull on my roof
I live a long way from the sea
So the Gull's probably a metaphor
For something that's wrong with me

It's hard to tell these days
Everybody claims perfect knowledge
The whole world has Google
And can look up the symbolic

My pal wants to shoot him
The errant Gull
But he's just an idiot
And attacks problems with impulse

I want to watch and see what he does
I do that with metaphors
The Gull might have reasons
Maybes and Whyfors

And he's not hurting anyone
Up there on my roof
He might be a theorem
Looking for a proof

I appreciate I am giving this Gull
A whole lot of things to be
And maybe he just wants
To be away from the sea

You know like the Devil
In that Netflix series
He just wants a break
From where his real life is

Perhaps my roof
Is where life is greener
Where he can be free
To be a day dream believer

Nah the Monkee reference
Is just a distraction
He's a Gull looking for another Gull
Metaphors are just poetry in action!

But the Gull is still on my roof
Fast becoming a cliche
I can no longer deny he's there
When I thought my troubles seemed so far away
I wrote another poem about you today
Of all the things I wish I could still say
That I would be there for you when the days were long
And play you my guitar and sing you our song
I know as of now we have to be friends
But I wonder if this pain and sadness ever ends
One day I hope I can be what you need
And give all my loving to you with each deed

Jenny Gordon Mar 31
Damning enough, that song was literally Saturday's theme from start to finish, into Sunday's wee hours.


O that delicious sense of being to scale
Gone from this world!  Lost in the realms of thence
Fair dreams likeas our folly draws up hence
In heavn's keen eye, yet by sleep drugged, t'avail
So far beyond this mundane hour's detail
That I ne'er heard lo, his alarm, lost whence
I canna say, just that twas bliss good sense
Chides, whilst I relish that sans, erm, aught bail.
Why Ringo Starr's performance of in tour
"Act Natrally" haunts both my rising through
Th'ensuing hours til even now as twere,
I canna guess, but toasting breakfast to
Effect found me in serving it, in poor
'Scuse singing "..greatest fool you e'er saw--" too.

Honestly, I more than suspect I should seriously tremble at what influences me through the hours.
Jenny Gordon Mar 28
So there.


How black night's swallowed all whenas fr'intents
My back was turned, lost in the search t'avail
Me of the Beatles' first whole concert they'll
Assure aught therein had McCartney's thence
Um first rendition of that song which hence
Has been playing on repeat in sheer betrayl
For how long now?  Whiles oh, dear me!  in frail
Excuse I see more clearly hope's pretense.
Watch, not dear Paul nor John to see as twere
He is:  a man.  No.  Him just talking to
An older gent.  If I'd forgot in poor
'Scuse I'm a very silly girl, I knew
It slowly in a blink.  What folly'd stir
Days ere I canna rue enough.  Laugh too?

*cough, cough*  Turns out reality actually makes perfect sense.  However, my folly has the ability to twist simple facts completely out of order, and sit triumphantly atop proclaiming its assessment to be truth, regardless the lack of good sense.  Thus this late affair of a foolish crush.  What's new?
Jenny Gordon Mar 24


Watch Paul McCartney's erm, debut of thence
That soulful number "Yesterday." and they'll
What, eh?  If's not the song itself t'avail,
How 'bout John Lennon's snide remark for sense
To Ringo, was't?  As if there was fr'intents
This rivalry which could not in betrayl
Be satisfied to have Paul up (sans bail?)
Alone on stage where all the girls cooed hence.
As if they did not cry for John in tour,
And that by name, he must begrudge it too?
I'm just a child in sheer compare as twere,
Yet "all grown-up" now to effect, see through
Their boyish ways and fall in love, though's poor.
While "Yesterday's" notes never fail to woo.

--what I prefer about the full performance over this mere clip, is the tiny details, ie all John's behaviour.
The Full Performance:  
The Beatles Blackpool Night Out, ABC Theatre, Blackpool, United Kingdom (Full Performance)
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